


Hybristophilia

by aimai



Category: Uncharted (Video Games)
Genre: Biting, Blood, Dirty Talk, F/M, Paraphilias, Please beware as i update this with more oddities that will send me to hell, Rough Sex, Spanking, Strong Language, cursing, this fic is meant to be a giant ball of fucked up disgustingness
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-07-08
Updated: 2016-08-04
Packaged: 2018-07-22 08:22:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,199
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7427383
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aimai/pseuds/aimai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"A paraphilia in which a person is sexuoerotically attracted to a person who has committed an outrage or a gruesome crime."</p><p>Oh. That explains why you're still with him.</p><p>Rafe Adler/Female Reader</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> do you ever get a prompt that pops into your head and you write it and youre like "this is probably gonna be the thing that gets me banned" ??
> 
> me too.

The thing about Rafe Adler is that he is a man of taste. He enjoys a number of simple things, such as popping open a bottle of aged wine, to delicately brushing the dust off an archaeological find, to beating an unfaithful employee's face to a pulp.

Rafe Adler truly is a man of many tastes.

You can't help but smile at him in adoration as you watch him kick around a Shoreline mercenary for the fourth time that week.

"I told you to not use the dynamite. What do you do? You use the fucking dynamite."

He's gorgeous in the way his fists squelch with blood and in the way he snarls at the bleeding man below him.

"Mr. Adler, Nadine isn't going to-"

"You're getting paid to listen to me. Not to bitch to me about how your boss will kick my ass if I discipline you properly. Now," Rafe crouches low to the floor, holding the mercenary by his blood-soaked hair and pulling it around to agitate him a bit. "Go do your fucking job."

With that, he throws the mercenary's head onto the granite floor, and you can hear a slight crack which you assume is the sound of his nose breaking. He scuffles around the floor for a few seconds on all fours before pushing himself back up and limping away. Rafe sure did a number on him. Then again, he was punching and kicking and monologuing for almost half an hour.

After the man has left and Rafe gets his bearings, he finds himself unaffected by his bloodied hands and the stained floor.

"Sweetheart," he calls to you, "Be a doll and get me a wet towel, won't you?"

He flashes a genuine smile your way and you return it with a smile to match. You don't understand why you adore him so much, but you do.

Perhaps his charisma is in his alpha-like personality, or perhaps it's in his (literal) million-dollar smile. Despite the fact that the two of you met through a series of black market trades (in which he showed a lot of interest in a centuries-old Egyptian artifact that you grave-robbed), you can't help but think that this is truly where infatuation and romanticism peaks.

So, you leave the room happily to fetch his towel as he plays with the blood staining his hands.


	2. Narratophilia (NSFW)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "Narratophilia is a sexual fetish, in which the telling of dirty and obscene words or stories to a partner is sexually arousing."
> 
> warnings: rough sex, dirty talk, mentions of voyeurism

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> why am i writing smut? BECAUSE I AM A GODLESS HEATHEN THAT'S WHY

Throughout your relationship, you've noticed a number of things about Rafe: that he purses his lips when in deep thought, that he speaks with his hands, that he's quite soft-spoken until he's agitated. You admire these cute quirks about him and you kiss him on his cheeks as a way to tell him that he is absolutely adorable.

And there are other things you've noticed about Rafe.

You noticed the way he bites his lip when he grinds into your hips. The way his nails scratch against his bed's headboard as he has you bent over, biting the pillow. The way his calloused hands run down you back and then promptly slap you on the ass as hard as possible. It's a good feeling, you admit, to be dominated by him. And he definitely enjoys it because he can't seem to stop finding ways to mark you as his own.

It's just another day of sex, you think. His roughness is a thing that you've become familiar with, and you enjoy your time in his bedroom, welcoming it with open arms (and legs).

After the two of you have finished, he leaves the comfort of his plush bed in order to clean himself up in the bathroom.

"I should get a tramp stamp," you joke as he turns off the sink and joins you under the sheets, "It'll say 'PROPERTY OF RAFE ADLER.'"

Rafe looks at you and smiles as you move your body closer to his and rest your head on his chest.

"That sounds like a plan. I'll pay for the tattoo."

You wonder if he was messing with you, but his unreadable expression doesn't hint at any sort of joke or seriousness.

The post-sex atmosphere is always off-putting every single time. Although you have familiarized yourself with it, it never seems to cease striking an awkwardness with you. Rafe, however, shrugs it off as if it's completely natural, and it possibly is. He's probably used to it, you think, as you imagine the amount of women he's been with and how many times he's had to make himself comfortable with the silence that comes after sex.

Coincidentally, he breaks the silence by speaking up.

"Ready for round two?"

"Woah, round two?" you laugh, "I thought we were done here."

"I am never done with you," he says, rolling on top of you as your legs part by instinct of the familiar feeling of Rafe being between your thighs, "Not with that goddamn ass of yours."

You can't help but giggle at his advances (and the lame compliment), but you welcome him as your hands trail up his chest to the back of his neck, pulling him down for a kiss.

He's not hard yet, but you'll get him there quickly.

Rafe sighs as he breaks the kiss and goes to your neck, kissing the crook, hands trailing all over your body and groping your ass as he grinds against you. The sensation gets both him and you going right away, and he bites your collarbone, savoring your gasps as he moves his hips a little harder.

The sharp pain on your neck pulls you back to reality. The feeling of Rafe against you is still there, but it's drowned out with your whimpers and begging, telling Rafe that it hurts.

He only bites down harder.

You're not sure if there's blood, but if there is, then he's enjoying the taste because he's talking dirty against your skin, telling you he's gonna fuck you so hard you'll see stars, that he's gonna leave more bites for the world to see, that he loves the way you're begging under his touch because goddammit, he fucking loves the desperate sounds you're making as he pins you down with his body.

Rafe takes in every scent, every whisper, every tremble, because he absolutely loses it at the sight of you needing him to break the damn bed.

He flips you over, and you assume the position of all fours, one hand on the pillow and one palm against the headboard.

"Look at that," he chuckles to himself, "Your ass is so damn red. Am I too rough?"

"Not rough enough." You joke.

As always, your words spur him on, and he skips the foreplay as he slides into you right away, his hips quickly meeting yours as you gasp at the sudden feeling of being filled.

It's not painful at all - the two of you fucked literally ten minutes ago - but as your back arches, Rafe can't help but add a mix of pain into the pleasure.

He slaps your ass once, then again, then a third time, which he made sure was as hard as possible. He's still thrusting into you, and the sudden sensation of sharp pain makes you moan and hum, telling him that you want more.

He bends a little lower so that his chest is up against your back, and his arm is wrapped around your chest whilst his other hand stays against your ass cheek.

"Tell me what you want, huh? Tell me, do you like it when I'm slapping your ass? Do you like that?"

The dirty talk zooms past your ears, but you acknowledge it with moans and a quiet, "yes."

"Of course you do. You're so fucking dirty," he whisper into your ear and sticks a finger into your mouth, prompting you to suck it as if you were blowing him, "Look at you, you sick fuck. I saw the way you were looking at me when I was beating that merc to high heaven. You wanted in, didn't you?"

You say nothing as you continue to suck on his digits before they leave your mouth, finding their way onto your breast as his palm kneads against it.

"Sometimes I think about fucking you in front of those damn mercenaries. They're so fucking annoying. I wanna see their faces as I make you scream my damn name."

The obscenities are almost never-ending as his hands continue to roam your body, rubbing against your clit, then digging his nails into your waist. The combination of his breath against your ear and his cock hitting you in such a deep, sweet spot keeps you moaning. You can feel the coil in your abdomen tightening as he thrusts harder, rocking you, rocking the bed. The headboard you're holding onto is slamming against the wall now, and you're tearing up as you cry his name out, tightening around him as the coil unwinds and you ride your orgasm. He comes inside you soon after, biting your shoulder and gripping your curves as he muffles the sound of his groaning against your skin.

He pulls out of you, letting you collapse slowly onto the bed, and he leaves to go to the bathroom to clean up yet again.

Post-sex silence is very awkward, especially since the two of you are so loud the entirety of Scotland can hear you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this entire fic is based on paraphilia btw so if any of u wanna reccommend me a kink that would suit rafe plz share
> 
> also plz tell me if i missed any warning rip


	3. Intermission: Blood

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i forgot to post this like two weeks ago lmao

Nadine Ross is an intimidating woman.

At first, you're scared to approach her in fear of her body-slamming you onto the hard floor. It's a ridiculous thought, but from her military background, you assumed she was the paranoid type that is ready to punch whoever taps her shoulder from behind.

But she's one of the only women on duty who carry sanitary pads and tampons on her, and at the right time of the month, too. So when you ask her if she has - and you literally, shyly ask - "feminine hygiene products," you find yourself surprised that her smile is sweet, akin to beaming sunlight that creeps over the morning horizon in Scotland.

She is more welcoming than you would have thought, and the two of you quickly bond.

It takes no time to realize that - humorously - your cycles have synchronized and soon, you're laughing with her during break sessions as you overlook the beautiful Scottish landscape, talking trash about some of the Shoreliners and sharing lunch.

Nadine Ross is not scary at all - she is rather one hell of a woman - and you admire her brute strength when you watch her in the tunnels, pushing and moving stones by hand. Her men are equally as impressed, and you clap for her when she has finished with her labor, and she smiles and bows and laughs because she is quite the lovely woman.

You wonder if Rafe admires her as much as you do, so you ask, and he tells you that she is his partner, and they would not be working together if he had no faith in her abilities.

Of course he would answer with that. Of course he would avoid the question. Of course he would answer vaguely.

As much as you found friendship in the both of them, you can't help but stop in your tracks every single time you see them together, alone, discussing whatever they need to discuss about the excavation happening around the cathedral. And you notice that each time they meet up, they get closer and closer, and you can see it in how Nadine touches Rafe's chest and how Rafe leans in close to whisper into Nadine's ear. Not even the cold Scottish winters could even out the heat and tension that is filling the room.

You bite your lip, squishing your bottom lip against your teeth with your tongue, and it takes a numb mouth to realize that you might be jealous. So you do the smart thing: run away from your irrationality and problems.

For the next week, you find yourself constantly moving around the property, hoping that if Nadine and Rafe were looking for you, your constant, unpredictable path would keep them off your tail. It works like a charm, but it's tiring and boring, despite the fact that the cliffs and sea had quite the view to offer.

Your passive-aggressiveness towards Rafe catches the attention of a number of Shoreliners, and you joke with them about how, "Rafe and Nadine are totally fucking, right?" And they actually play along and make more jokes with you, mocking disgusting noises and making gestures that hit home, but you say nothing because the joking is helping you get your rage out. You keep going and going and you learn a few things.

It turns out that no one - absolutely no one - knows about you and Rafe. Not that you could call him your boyfriend (as that was too emotional of a term), nor a fuck-buddy (which, ironically, was too vulgar a word). You would think someone would know, but it turns out that everyone is completely ignorant to your odd relationship with the boss. To both of the bosses, really. But everyone only knows you as "that girl that keeps inventory sometimes," and you're actually glad that the soldiers don't treat you the way they would treat Rafe if he wasn't paying them so well.

The Shoreline mercenaries are fun to speak to, and it gets even more rowdy when they invite you back to a campsite and keep a number of open coolers of beer. It doesn't take long until everyone is drunk and having fun, and even Nadine shows up and has a few drinks herself, chatting with her militia and even stumbling over to you and telling you about her day. You can't stay mad at Nadine - not when she's so nice to you.

"I think you've had enough drinks for one day," she says to you as you find yourself dropping a bottle a few times, "Go and rest." She pats you on the shoulder and gives that sunlit smile again, and your inebriated self cannot refuse.


End file.
